Friday, February 19, 2010

Nine months

I was sitting on my bedroom floor, matching sock pairs, and it hit me. Today is the 19th.

And I don’t feel much of anything, in that regard.

And I refuse to feel guilty about that.

I am busy living my life right now – as boring and one-dimensional as that may be. I eat, I rest, I do what little I can around my home without breaking too many bedrest rules. I watch a lot of HGTV and Food Network; I read a LOT of books and even more blogs. I toss feminine names around in my head all day long, trying out different combinations. I think about Seth; his vocabulary, his potty training, his eating habits – all the things a mom-of-a-toddler thinks about.

And being consumed with the well-being of my son and husband, and becoming wonderfully excited and preoccupied with the looming arrival of our daughter, I find there is little space or energy to be drawn into the missing of Duncan.

There are daily reminders of him, to be sure. Each day, I lather on the same cocoa butter body lotion I used during his pregnancy. I methodically price items for the spring consignment sale, fully aware that I no longer have need for baby boy onesies. Each time my mind scrambles to calculate Baby Girl’s kick count, I think of my sweet second son.

I think of him; I remember my time with him. But do I miss him?

That’s hard to answer. Or maybe I just don’t want to, for fear that the honest answer isn’t the “politically correct” one.

So maybe we’ll just leave the truth of that one between Duncan and me.

*********

Apple Jack,

You will always BE, baby boy. Your place in our family is uniquely yours and absolutely secure. You are forever loved; forever a part of us. Thank you for the lessons in love and life that you had no idea you would teach me. I will forever be a better mommy to your brother and sister because of how you changed me. I love you.

Big hugs today! You said it so perfectly. And honestly, these are the same feelings that I have of my miscarriages. Their lives were unique and they have a special place in my heart and life, and I am a better mommy for their existence. But I no longer grieve for them exactly, I only think about the "what could have been". Ah life... ;)

I don't think you have reason to feel guilty. He is a part of your family, a part of your life. I'd like today is a day where he feels more integrated in your life, rather than missing from it, and that is a good thing. ((Hugs))

No reason to feel guilty at all! While I do miss Carleigh, I refuse to spend my days pining over what could have been. I love her and she'll always be a part of my family. She'd want me to go on living so that's exactly what I'm doing.

I was just reading Matt Logelin's blog, and he is talking about dating again (his wife died if you don't know his story) and being happy even when he carries his sadness with him. I thought it was relevant (both to you and me). I also just wrote this recently, and I think it might speak to you in the same way: "[I]n the months and years after moving home, acceptance starts to creep in (even if you try really really really hard to still be angry)." It's hard to be happy and sad, angry and contented together. Eventually one has to give, I think... even if we continue to carry the other with us.